


Desecration of My Mind

by BlueNeutrino



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hannibal AU, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNeutrino/pseuds/BlueNeutrino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham awakes in a castle with no memory of who he his save for his name, and no recollection of how he got there. The only clue he has to help piece the past together is a note he left himself with instructions to kill Hannibal Lecter, the mysterious man who appears to be the reason for his current predicament. However, the more Will discovers about himself and the circumstances that led him here, the less he wishes he knew. Hannibal Amnesia AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is for floridiantoast on Tumblr who wanted a Hannibal/Amnesia crossover, so I suggested a Will-as-Daniel and Hannibal-as-Alexander AU would work well. I hope you in particular enjoy it, and that everyone else at least doesn’t dislike it. This begins as an AU but isn’t one completely, for reasons that will become apparent later on.

_Don't forget… Some things mustn't be forgotten._

He runs. Or at least he tries to, his unsteady feet pushing forward with a desperate urgency as his spinning mind holds him back. His thoughts tumble over themselves in slippery, fluid pieces, beginning to bleed out of the cracks in his psyche as some new tide disturbs them.

_He's coming for me. I must hurry._

The world swims before him. He stumbles. Hands fall against a wall as he tries to steady himself, running over it as he tries to press on. The texture seems strange and vacillating. It begins as smooth painted plaster, but it melts into coarse stone beneath his fingers and back again, like his brain doesn't know how to process the surface he's feeling. Cruel, obtrusive yellow light invades his eyes; blinding him for a fleeting instant until in a blink it's gone, and all he can see is a flickering orange glimmer in the distance. His surroundings crumble and recede like the tide ebbing out to sea.

_I don't know who I am._

No, he must fight. This is one thing that can't be lost. His identity is slipping away upon the water, and he tries to grasp onto it with weak and shaking fingers.

_My name is Will Graham; I live in… in Wolf Trap, Virginia…_

He forces the words into order, but there's some threat preying upon him and trying to chase their meaning away. He raises his head to look towards the light, wondering when he'd fallen on the floor, and sees the man stood in front of him. But there's no man, there's only a shadow: a dark space swarming with flies. As he sees them they disperse, and in their place is a black stag. Its back is lined with raven feathers.

_I see you._

He knows who the stag is, but he doesn't think he'll be able to hold onto the memory for much longer.

_What have I done? This is crazy. Don't forget, don't forget. I must stop him. Focus!_

In his mouth there's the taste of blood and raw meat and rose petals. The blood he thinks is his own, and he bites down on his tongue to remind himself who he is.

_My name is…_

He can taste the answer, yet which of the flavours it is, he isn't sure.

_Hobbs? No…_

Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear a clock ticking. The stag is walking away from him, and he knows he must follow it, yet the darkness pressing down on his consciousness is growing heavier with each passing second.

Let this be the one thing he remembers.

_I am Will._


	2. Descend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will awakes alone in the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. If you have reached this point, then I thank you for finding this story by whatever means and for reading beyond the prologue. Before I continue, there's a couple of aspects of this story I think I should explain a little before you read further, as I've been faced with some decisions as to how far I should go in converting this into an AU. Firstly, do I keep the 19th century setting from Amnesia, or transpose it to the modern day? I went back and forth between these two for a while, but I've ultimately decided to leave it in the original Amnesia time frame because I think it will serve the gothic horror vibe of the story better. Also, Castle Brennenberg, as I'm sure you'll agree is fitting, has been replaced with Castle Lecter. In the Thomas Harris novels, Castle Lecter is located in Lithuania, however, in NBC's Hannibal, I doubt Bryan Fuller is going to claim Hannibal is Lithuanian and Mads Mikkelsen very much sounds Danish, therefore this story will take place in Denmark, not Prussia.

_Pitter-patter, pitter-patter…_

It was raining. The noise was soft: a gentle, melancholy melody that was kind on his ears as he eased his way back into consciousness; in stark contrast to the hard ground he found himself lying on and the stiff ache in his limbs. Gradually, he eased himself up, coming first to his knees and then as well as he could manage to his feet, blinking his eyes to try and clear them of the haze that had settled both on his vision and on his mind. For now, his only point of focus was on standing, but as his spine straightened and his balanced steadied itself, with that accomplished he turned his attention to his surroundings.

Confusion very quickly manifested in his brain as he struggled to work out where he was. There was a window in front of him, allowing just enough light through to illuminate the dark space around him in a dull grey glow. In the distance he could hear the wind howling, but inside a faint breeze was also stirring the air to leave a sharp chill on his skin. He shivered. What was this place? He didn't recognise the stone walls and floor surrounding him, but if he had to guess he'd immediately assume he was in a castle. That much seemed clear, but what he didn't know was where the castle was. Actually, there seemed to be a many things he didn't know.

Thoughts were beginning to form in his mind again in the wake of sleep, yet so many things were still groggy and unclear. As he tried harder to think and force some kind of order into his brain, he realised he couldn't remember not only how he got here, but anything from before that. He wasn't even sure he could remember who he was.

The realisation forced a surge of panic to rush through him. What could have happened? Why couldn't he remember anything? His vivid imagination was threatening to play through all the horrible scenarios that could possibly have led to this, but as he felt himself beginning to hyperventilate he forced his breathing back to a steady rhythm, stemming the tide of hysteria that was creeping up on him. Stay calm, and concentrate. What could he remember?

_My name is Will Graham._

That was good. He knew his name, so that was a solid place to start.

_I live in the United States, in…_

It was distant, just skimming the edges of his memory, but he knew the end to that sentence.

_In Wolf Trap, Virginia. The year is 18…30? 40?_

He'd been relieved to remember where he was from, but the date wouldn't come. As he tried to reach for it, it slipped beyond his grasp, and he had to settle for a vague guess. For all his efforts, there was nothing more he could remember with any certainty.

So now what was he to do?

Taking a cautious step forward, his legs still a little unsteady, Will began to explore the room he was in in search of answers. There was a small table nearby upon which there stood a candle, which he wished he had a means of lighting just for a little more light and warmth, but that wasn't an option. Abandoning that idea, he looked down to notice there were specks of a strange dark pink liquid on the floor, which he couldn't identify. In the dull light it seemed almost luminescent, and appeared to be leaving a trail heading through an archway at the far end of the room. Will swallowed, not liking that he was unable to tell what this strange substance was, and liking even less the thought of what might have left it. So what now? Did he follow the trail? He wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that idea.

Instead he chose to look behind him, hoping he had the option of going in the opposite direction. However, as he turned round he was surprised to find himself confronted with a huge pile of rock and debris, ascending all the way to the ceiling as if part of the castle had caved in. The sight prompted a fresh wave of fear. What had happened? _What could possibly have caused all this?_

Driven by an instinct to just get away and get _out,_ Will turned again and decided to follow the trail of liquid in the only direction that wasn't blocked off. If nothing else, it was the only way that might eventually lead out of here, and he didn't want to stay in this cold, dark place much longer. Hurriedly he walked onwards, feeling apprehensive at what may be in the room beyond the arch, but he knew he had little choice. He had to get out of here and find someone who could help him. There had to be someone else who would know who he was and what had happened. Except, what if there wasn't?

And what if there _was?_

Uncertainty further fuelled his fear as he stepped through the archway into the space beyond. Now he was standing in what looked like an entrance hall, facing an archway like the one he had just walked through. Beyond that he could see there was another cave in, and on his left there was a large window set a few feet up in the wall, while there was a pair of grand oak doors several yards away on his right. That had to be the entrance. He barely even glanced at anything else as his eyes homed in on what must be a potential exit, and his feet picked up pace again as he hurried towards it. He didn't quite run, but his footsteps echoed loudly off of the stone floor, keeping time with his heart.

_Please let this be a way out._

Hope was the only thing holding back the waves of fear as he reached the doors, praying that they would just open and he would just be able to leave this awful place, but as his hands grasped the iron loops that were the handles and he pushed against the solid mass of oak, the door wouldn't budge. "Please…" he whispered, trying again with all his strength to turn the handles and force the doors open, but this time as he did so a strange, inexplicable force seemed to be working against him. A heavy coldness seemed to clamp down on his mind, blurring his vision and causing his legs to tremble as he felt as though the doors were actively pushing back. It may have been his imagination, but he thought he could see a face in front of him, somewhere beyond the doors as if he were looking right through them; a figure advancing on him through the darkness…

With a cry of fear Will suddenly leapt back, breath coming in heavy gasps as he stared in terror at the space in front of him. That couldn't have been real. It was his mind playing tricks on him. That was all.

He took a few deep, shaking breaths to calm himself, determined not to let the situation get to him. The main doors were locked, no question about that, and he didn't much want to try opening them again. All that meant was that he would have to find another way out of here.

Feeling somewhat nervous about turning his back to the doors, but telling himself he was being irrational, Will turned round again and began to walk back towards the window at the other end of the hall. He passed another closed door at the side of the hall and a suit of armour on his way, but he didn't stop to look at them yet. First he wanted to see outside, if he could, hoping that it might help answer a few questions about where he was. He came to a stop just in front of the window, peering out to see if there was anything outside to help identify where the castle might be, but all there appeared to be was white fog. Stepping closer still, Will leaned his head towards the glass, close enough that he could see his breath misting on its surface, and squinted out to see if he could discern any shapes in the blankness.

It was strange, but the longer he stared out the more he felt a building sense of trepidation, almost as if he knew there was something out there he didn't want to see, but he forced himself to look. After a few seconds he thought he was beginning to make out the faint outline of something out there in the fog, but just as it seemed as though he'd be able to tell what it was, a noise sounded from somewhere in the distance behind him.

Startled, he spun round again, backing himself up against the window with his heart racing. It had sounded like a scream. Somewhere out there someone was crying out in pain or fear, and their cries were being carried on the wind to echo in the vaulted ceiling above. Something was out there and it was coming for him next…

As he stared down the empty hall it took him several seconds to convince himself that there was nothing there. It hadn't been a scream, he told himself. It was only the wind, distorted by his imagination to sound like danger. But whether the scream had been real or not, he was unsettled enough to decide that he ought to get moving.

Looking down at the ground, he saw the trail of pink liquid appeared to be leading towards the closed door he'd passed earlier, and he felt a sense of foreboding as he realised that was the only direction in which he could now go. He'd barely taken two steps towards it before the door swung open, seemingly of its own accord, and a chill gripped him as a sudden gust of wind blew past. For a moment he stood frozen on the spot, trying not to let his imagination conjure up images of what might walk through the door at any moment.

_Nothing's going to come through. The wind blew it open. Nothing's on the other side._

It was difficult to convince himself of that, but he knew he was going to have to keep going if he was to ever get out of here. At length, Will took another deep breath and began to walk forward again, cautiously approaching to see what was beyond the door. After several long seconds he found himself standing at the threshold, looking down a flight of stairs that led beyond.

The space behind the door was dark, and there were only one or two flickering torches in the walls to let him see where the steps led, but it was enough to let him make out the bottom. What he saw there was both chilling and surreal.

At the foot of the steps stood a stag; ebony black in colour and with its fur blending into feathers along the ridge of its back. It stood with its face upturned towards Will, its antlers casting gnarled shadows on the ground.

Will should have been terrified. And to an extent he was, as well as completely confused, but yet somehow that stag brought with it a strange sense of familiarity. With everything else that was missing from his memory and the panic of not knowing who or where he was, having something in front of him that he almost remembered made him feel the calmest he'd been since he'd woken up here. It surprised and puzzled him that he should feel this way, but this was something that it seemed he could almost _understand._ He just didn't know how to explain it, even to himself.

For a couple of moments, Will and the stag simply stared at each other, and then the feathered elk turned and began to walk away, disappearing down the corridor at the foot of the stairs. Will couldn't see where it went, but he knew what he had to do. This was something that seemed to carry with it an overwhelming sense of importance, even though he still couldn't explain how or why he was feeling any of this. He just knew he had to follow it.

And so Will took one steady, tentative step beyond the doorway, and began to descend.


	3. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finds the letter, and now finds himself facing a choice.

The steps descended for several yards, and Will felt the air growing colder as he approached the bottom. Just as he reached the final step, a sharp gust of wind blew into his face from the corridor in front of him, and then the air swirled upwards to extinguish the torches that had guided his way down. With the sudden loss of their light, Will couldn't help the faint whimper that escaped him as he was plunged into darkness.

 _Don't be a child. Don't be afraid of the dark,_ he told himself, although in his current circumstances he thought that if he was afraid of the dark then he had good reason.

Turning again to look ahead of him, with his hand reaching out to the wall for guidance, he could see a faint yellow glimmer in the distance. It looked like the glow of candlelight, but there was a harsh straight line of darkness cutting it off on the left, suggesting that the source was round a corner. As the glow flickered Will thought he could see the dark silhouette of the stag again, which seemed to be stood as if waiting for him. But then, as if satisfied that he'd seen it, it turned and walked round the corner, again vanishing from sight.

The long stretch of darkness ahead of him was terrifying, but Will knew he had to press on. Even though he still couldn't explain why, he knew it was important that he went wherever the stag was leading him.

Keeping his fingers on the wall to guide himself, Will slowly began to walk forwards, taking care with each step as he tread on the dark space beneath him that obscured the floor. The light at the end of the corridor seemed much too far away, but steadily, he began to progress towards it. He'd reached about half way when beneath his fingertips he suddenly felt the dry stone wall become slick with moisture. He froze. It was most likely just water, probably condensation, but that didn't stop his mind coming up with a dozen unpleasant alternatives as to what it might be.

Trying not to let himself entertain the thought of what he might be touching, Will cautiously began to move forward again. He'd barely gone two paces before he suddenly felt the solid ground beneath him give way to something soft and squishy, that compressed horribly beneath his foot as he put his weight down. _What_ is _that?_ A nauseated wave of dread washed over him. Abandoning all caution, Will pulled his hand away from the wall and ran.

He didn't know what his feet were landing on, but he didn't stop until he'd reached the corner where the light was enough for him to see that the floor was very much just plain, grey stone. Only once there did he allow himself to pause, panting heavily from both exertion and fear. Momentarily, he glanced back along the tunnel of blackness down which he'd just ran and then looked away again, not even wanting to think about what might have been down there. As he looked down at himself he caught sight of his hand, and in the dim light could see that it was coated in a thick red substance. Of course it had never been water.

Resisting the urge to be sick, Will feverishly tried to wipe away the blood on the wall, and then on his shirt, desperate for it to just be gone. _What the Hell is this place? What was all that?_ With as much of the red liquid cleaned away as possible, he gulped down a couple of calming breaths and then focused his attention on the candlelight. The flickering glow was a soothing distraction as he tried to ignore the bloody smears that now surrounded him and the red that was clinging to the space under his fingernails and the fibres of his shirt. The candle in question was set in a sconce upon the wall, illuminating a wooden door a foot or two away from it. Where the door led to was anyone's guess, but Will now had no choice but to find out. He wasn't about to go back, but he was praying that whatever was on the other side was no worse than what he had just face.

Taking a deep breath, Will stepped forward, gripped the door handle, and pushed. Almost against his expectations, it swung easily open, revealing a room on the other side that was much better illuminated than the corridor he was currently in. Directly opposite where Will stood there was a desk upon which were several candles burning steadily, and next to them was what looked like an oil lantern. The sight of that was enough to grant him some comfort as he realised he'd now at least be able to carry a light source with him. He hurried inside the room and crossed to the desk to better examine what was upon it.

Beside the lantern were several tinderboxes, which he immediately picked up and thrust into his pockets, knowing that in this dark place they were bound come in useful. He then picked up the lantern, and seeing there was no oil for it he checked the desk drawers, becoming relieved to find a couple of jars in the middle one. After his experience earlier, the assurance of having some light was a comfort. By now he knew he was underground, and having any kind of natural light at all was probably too much to hope for.

There were several papers lying on the desk which he intended to take a look over, hoping they might give him some indication of where he was, but his eyes had only skimmed over the top one before a single word at the foot of the page jumped out at him. It was signed "Will".

The rest of the room seemed to fade into the distance as his eyes focused in on that one word. Will. That was him, wasn't it? Could this be a letter for him? Would it tell him what had happened?

His mouth had suddenly gone very dry. A strong sense of apprehension was making his stomach squirm, and he was almost scared to find out what the note contained, but if there were any answers, then he _had_ to know.

With trembling fingers, Will reached down to pick up the letter and began to read:

_19th of August, 1839_

_I wish I could ask you how much you remember. I don't know if there will be anything left after I consume this drink. Don't be afraid, Will. I can't tell you why, but know this. I choose to forget. Try to find comfort and strength in that fact. There is a purpose. You are my final effort to put things right._

_There is a task you must complete. Even if all else is gone, I hope the name Hannibal Lecter still invokes bitter anger in you. If not, then this next part will sound abhorrent. You must go to the Inner Sanctum, find Hannibal and kill him. I know you are capable. I cannot explain why, but you have already proven you will be a match for him. Trust that it is the right thing to do._

_One last thing: a creature is following you. You once knew it as a man named Hobbs, but it is something else – some kind of living nightmare. It cannot be killed. I have tried, but it has only returned as something much worse. Now it hunts you and there is no way to fight back. You must escape it as long as you can. Redeem us both, Will. Descend into the darkness where Hannibal waits and murder him._

_Your former self,_

_Will_

For several long moments after finishing reading Will stood staring at the paper, trying to take it all in. The words seemed to blur before his eyes, but some parts seemed to sharpen and become even clearer than before, angrily demanding his attention:

… _kill…nightmare…murder…_

So this was a note he'd left himself before he'd chosen to forget everything, and now _this_ was what he was asking himself to do? Murder someone? Will didn't want to accept it. This couldn't be him. He couldn't have written this. How could that possibly be the right thing to do? He may not know who he was, but he knew he wasn't a murderer. Was he? So many questions had sprung into his mind. He found himself wondering why he hadn't left a better explanation for himself if he knew he was about to forget everything, but then his eyes fell on the words _redeem us both_ and he began to feel as though he was afraid to know. Whatever had happened here, it must have been truly horrific, and somehow he had a part to play in it.

And now he found himself facing a terrible choice. Did he do it? Did he do what the letter asked and try and kill this Hannibal person, whoever he was? Would he ever get out of here if he didn't?

Confused and scared, Will stared at the name "Hannibal Lecter" scrawled in his own unfamiliar handwriting and tried to remember. _Did_ it invoke anger? Any kind of memory at all?

It was consuming so much of his attention that he didn't give thought to the final part of the note for another few moments, but then something happened to distract him from all of it. A cold breeze blew past his face, and instinctively he turned his head to look in the direction it had come from. Outside his small circle of light the entire room appeared to have descended into complete darkness, and the note became crushed into a ball as Will's fist clenched in fear. His vision swam, seeming to twist and distort, while his blood rushed in in his ears and he felt an icy coldness grip him as his legs began to shake. He vaguely registered the sharp pain in his knees as they caved and hit the floor, and he imagined he heard a distant, cruel voice whispering in the air.

" _Got to honour every part_  
First take the liver then the heart  
Cut the skin and watch her bleed  
You tried to look but didn't see…"


End file.
